"Mrs Lorrimer's Folly."

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXV, Issue 10713, 7 June 1913, Page 2

"Mrs Lorrimer's Folly."

(OURISERiAL

By Charlotte M. Stanley. Author of "Edna's Vow," "His Country Cousin," "How an Oath Was Kept," "A Wo man Wronged."

CHAPTER XXlll—Continued, f Lady Holme had not selected Chelsea as her resting place from any particular hope that was connected with : the., place —it was more, indeed, a. matter of association. She had ascertained—in the course of other inquiries in New York—that Mr and Mrs Saville, those English cousins of whom she had heard Fred speak, and who were to have been introduced to her —had settled in Chelsea; and her heart, yearning toward anything that had been dear to Fred, prompted a desire to see them. So she took a pretty, furnished villa that chanced to be vacant there, and with a confidential maid and two servants established herself and household there quietly. She knew nothing about the Sav-' illes but just that they resided there, and she had formed no plan concerning them. She hadi been in Chelsea a week before it came to lier knowledge that her cousin s kept Saville's Hotel, and even then she remained as silent as before. Perhaps she feared the probable painfulness of an interview, or doubted it§ iitility; perhaps she also had some doubts of her own reception; who could tell what these people had heard, or knew? What if they should greet her with insutts or reproaches?—she who had de- . served neither, and had suffered so much? She did not go near SavilleV ; Hotel. ' ' . : i But she \v*nt on the beach with her daughter, and here fate followed ; , and found her. Here rose up before her Fred's face, Fred' s eyes, Fred's '. ] sunny, wavy hair. And first, in the , maddening surprise of it, she thought I , it Fred indeed, and cried out: j "Can the sea give up its dead?" ; And then, seeing that this was a boy ,- such as her own child would have grown to, shrieked, in a sudden rap- s ture, in a wild delirium of hopefulness : "Fred, my .Fred I , Oh, child! is your name Fred Lorrhner?" Ah, well, that hope had very soon dissipated. Not by the boy's answer—for the name might have been explained—but by Bertha's positive utterances. |

When, in answer to Lillian's appeal j —to lier humble though hurried ex- j planation of the past, and recital of her sacrifice and suffering, and her prayer for pity, and the restoration of her child—when in response to these Bertha had said , positively: "I do pity you, but I can do no more. The boy is my own; all Chelsea knows it," ah, then Lillian felt that all hope was done indeed, and went home doubly sad for that sweet, brief dream —doubly sad and desolate. But a night's reflection made her change her mind again, and revived the hope of yesterday. Many things that had appeared strange to her, even at first, appeared still stranger for long thinking over. As, for instance, the. boy's remarkable likeness to Fred Lorrimer—a likeness which went far beyond any mere family resemblance, extending a*-'it did, to even his voice and manner, and actually reproducing poor lost Fred. Then Bertha's confusion on the occasion of their meeting; her positive— -too positive—denials of all knowledge of Lil- • lia'ri's son, -and her strange exclamation: "He i s my own; all Chelsea knows it." That •set Lillian questioning. Had Berth r, ever had occasion to fear that the hoy's b'irth might be doubted, and bad she therefore made it her business to convince "all Chelsea' 1 ' that he was her son ?

Lillian wa s no longer a simple, ignorant girl. The experience of the past twelve years—contact with the world, knowledge of society, reading, travel—all these influences had educated and enlarged her mind, and made of her a shrewd and self-reliant woman. Now, with, her suspicions and maternal impulses fully awake, and with nature and instinct —those two great powers so much revered by honest Dick Saville—wonderfully instructing and clirecting her, she was miioh more than a match for simple Bertha Saville, whose knowledge of 'human nttnre was bounded by her own home and family, and whose thoughts and interests seldom strayed beyond them. Therefore, when Lilian came to the conclusion, "She is hiding some secret from me—from others, too; but from me above all others," we know that she had hit upon the truth: and when she further resolved, with a force and energy that had in them power to bear down all obstacles to her will, "[ will find out her mystery!" it was probable that, with time and patience, , s he would effect her purpose.

.she added, giving utterance to a surprise she really felt: "But how strange it is that you long and pine so for the little boy lost so long ago, when Heaven lias sent another child to comfort you! . I should have thought your second child, especially beingi a daughter, might long since have filled hi s place." The supposition was natural enough. Certainly there seemed nothing in it that need have provoked the almost indignant tone in which Lady Holme quicldy repudiated it. "•So more than my present husband, whom I never loved, can take Fred Lorrimer's place," she s aid, with evident annoyance. "My child, my son, wns dearer to. me than my life. 1 would far rather have died than 10-st him! Of course, lam fond of Clarice," sho added/ almost carelessly; , "and she is a dear, loving creature; but as to her t iking the place of :ny ■son—oil, never! never!" She burst into tears that all her resolution could not control, and turned her face away. In that moment she almost hated Bertha—the woman, she thought, who, not contented with keeping away from her her own child, presumed to offer her the .love of another child in place of him ! "I thought," sho said, passionately, "when J met that beautiful boy, who is Fred's image, the other day that Iliad found niy child! That 'by some act of God's great mercy he had come into your hands, and would be my own again ! Oh, if you knew what it has been to long, and yearn, and search for him thriugh all these years in vain! What it was to cherish that hope through a few 'hours until you robbed me of.it! The disappointment has almost .killed me!" Her tears fell fast. Her anguish was for the moment uncontrollable

And it served her purpose with Bertha better than all the shrewdness in the. world. The good soul's heart overflowed with pity for this bereaved mother. ' Fro>n that moment she was altogether Lillian's friend, and bat for her promise to her husband,.and her loyalty the secret would have escaped her there and then. She flung her arms around Lillin, and wept with heV, and over her woes heartily. "God knows how T feel-for yon!" she cried, "God knows how much J wish to give you any comfort! And I say to you 'keep on hoping.' Who knows but God may hear vour prayer at last, and restore your child! There is no proof that he was drowned, you know. Therefore, I say 'keep on hoping!' But what, would your husband say if ever you should find your son?" she asked-uneasilv. "Would he like it?" I (To he OntiTri'vi.)

CHAPTER XXIV;

A3 a preliminary, she set to work carefully to gain Bertha's liking and good will. Her confidence she did not expect or seek to win, intending to surprise it,, or take it by force presently. No hint of such an intention, however, could be seen in the gentle, cordial, affectionate manner with which she welcomed her two visitors.

"Next to having my own son back I find comfort in having yours near me, Mrs Saville," she said, with an air of tender melancholy, when the young people h>d wandered out through the open French windows into the garden, and left their elders atone.

"Oh, the happiness it would be to mo to have him always! Ido hope you will think seriously of allowing him at least to go with me to Europe for a year or two. The advantage to him would be very great, to say nothing of the comfort to me!" Bertha,answered, very ill at ease: "I must consult with my husband about it and learn his opinion." Then